


The Spartan Policy

by basilique, Odense, swimsalot



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Dicks, Emotional Sex, Eye Contact, First Time Blow Jobs, Gay For You, Group Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Protectiveness, Sexual Experimentation, Steve Rogers Feels, Uniform Kink, dicks everywhere, oh my goodness we put a lot of dicks in this, stucky PAIN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilique/pseuds/basilique, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odense/pseuds/Odense, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimsalot/pseuds/swimsalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The United States military has adopted a new policy: mandatory sexual intercourse between soldiers. </p><p>Steve and Bucky find themselves in a bit of a complicated situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Simple Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spartan Policy was the nice, shiny name that they used to encapsulate the regimented sexual activity and all the regulations that went with it; exactly who was expected to sleep with whom, and who couldn’t sleep with whom, not to mention the layers of rank that dictated who was to penetrate whom.
> 
> And, well, as much as the higher-ups insisted it was a simple fix, Steve wasn’t convinced it didn’t cause more problems than it fixed. It didn’t really seem so simple. For one thing, there was the fact that Bucky had more-than-certainly spent his time in service “bonding” with his comrades-in-arms.

Steve isn’t a good performer to begin with. But he is even worse when he is distracted by thoughts of Bucky Barnes. 

A glance at the troupe’s performance schedule, tracking their journey through the bases, had told him they would be in front of the 107th this afternoon. That means Bucky is somewhere in the audience right now. 

Steve has not yet had a chance to tell Bucky about the serum. And his stomach stirs with anxiety, much worse than his usual stage fright, as he imagines the thoughts that are flashing through Bucky’s mind at this very moment. 

“ _Don’t do anything stupid_ ,” Bucky had said. It had been his last request before going off to war. And Steve had promptly given his body over as a science experiment. It’s going to hit Bucky right in his paranoia about Steve’s safety. 

Still. No matter how upset he knows Bucky will be, it will be worth it to see him again. 

Steve had hated his nights alone, curled around himself in Bucky’s bed, his couch cushions on the floor abandoned. Frustration had coursed through him. 

Bucky was out in the thick of it, defending democracy, while Steve was at home twiddling his thumbs. And what was more, Steve knew beyond any doubt that while _he_ might be spending his nights alone, Bucky certainly was not. From boot camp to action, his best friend would have been as popular as he had been back in the city - if not more so, with the Armed Forces’ new… _“Spartan Policy”_. 

Steve had known coming overseas would have a whole host of complications. But this new policy was going to be the biggest headache of all. 

Someone on the hill in Washington had come up with the idea of promoting esprit de corps among the troops by means of “enforced bonding”. It was, after all, a tried and true military strategy. The great warring empires of the ancient Mediterranean, which had nearly conquered the world, had practiced it. And in light of the threat posed by the Third Reich, the United States government was turning to the ancients for inspiration. 

The trauma of war could powerfully bond one man to another. But the United States army needed more than a solidarity, more than a brotherhood. The soldiers needed to fight from their very _hearts_. They needed to be so powerfully bonded that no man would ever run, never leave his comrades behind to the gas and shells. 

The strategy was as simple and complicated as it could possibly be: regular, regimented, mandatory sexual intercourse. It was expected frequently, and encouraged daily. Instead of being restricted to side streets and back alleys, homosexual relationships stood front and center among the ranks. 

The Spartan Policy was the nice, shiny name that they used to encapsulate the regimented sexual activity and all the regulations that went with it; exactly who was expected to sleep with whom, and who _couldn’t_ sleep with whom, not to mention the layers of rank that dictated who was to penetrate whom. 

And, well, as much as the higher-ups insisted it was a simple fix, Steve wasn’t convinced it didn’t cause more problems than it fixed. It didn’t really seem so simple. For one thing, there was the fact that Bucky had more-than-certainly spent his time in service “ _bonding_ ” with his comrades-in-arms. 

It wasn’t easy to articulate _why_ exactly it bothered Steve to imagine Bucky lying with another man. Steve had always felt a pang of something odd and uncomfortable in his gut when Bucky went out on the town with dames. He told himself it was just frustration at the way the girls seemed to adore Bucky, while he, Steve, had never managed to secure a proper date in his life. But the truth is that he had never resented Bucky for being more popular than him. That wasn’t _really_ it. 

This feeling was...stronger. The tension in his gut felt much worse than it used to, all those times he stood waiting for Bucky to meet up with him after a hot date, kicking at cigarettes on the sidewalk. 

His stomach turned every time he imagined Bucky with another soldier...but he imagined it anyway, over and over again. _Bucky kissing some muscular, battle-scarred man. A general who would run huge, calloused fingers through Bucky’s hair._

Steve looks down at his own hands. Larger now, yes, but still soft, no matter how many exercises they put him through. The serum had seen to that. But for all the changes his body had seen, for all the - his mind stuttered - other men’s bodies Bucky had seen by now, all Steve could hope for was that his best friend would…recognize him, remember him. That they wouldn’t see the war or any policy come between them. 

After belting out his first line, “Series B bonds. Every one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun”, Steve tries unobtrusively to scan the crowd for Bucky. But there are four hundred faces at least, raised to look at him, and it is impossible to find Bucky in the crowd. He does another sweeping scan while he waits for Adolf Hitler to creep along behind the line of showgirls. But Bucky is still nowhere to be seen. 

_Damn it. Damn the Spartan Policy and damn this whole show and damn the 107th and damn Sargeant James Buchanan damn Barnes._

Steve spins around to punch out Adolf Hitler with a little extra gusto.


	2. Unit Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, there is a room upstairs,” Dernier says, looking around suggestively. “A private room. Perhaps we can take this time without our fearless leader for a little...unit bonding?”

_“I just want one name. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes from the hundred and seventh. Please tell me if he’s alive, sir.”_

Later, the only sound Steve remembers is the roaring in his ears when he heard that the 107th had been taken, and Sergeant Barnes was Missing in Action. After that moment in the tent, the rescue is a blur. A blur of running through the sounds of gunshots and men yelling. He vaguely remembers jumping from a plane, the sight of Bucky strapped down on a table, and a lot of confusion when Red Skull removed his face. 

He only comes back to earth when they were most of the way back to base, and he looks to his side to see Bucky walking next to him. 

Their return to the base is heralded with cheering, hugs, and thumps on the back. All together a loud swarm of soldiers rushes out to meet them on the road and congratulate Cap on his rescue and the men on their safe return. 

The crowd of men falls quiet only when Colonel Phillips steps out of his tent. Steve braces himself for his dressing down. He had, after all, gone rogue and acted without orders. But Phillips only gives him a sharp nod, followed up by what could be called an approving smile. 

The returning soldiers are pulled away and sent off to the medic’s tent to be evaluated and cleared for duty. Steve is allowed out almost immediately, but he lingers outside the tent’s entrance, waiting on the results of Bucky’s significantly-longer examination. 

He tries to contain the anxiety that he feels while he waits. Bucky is functioning normally. _He’s fine_. The doctors probably just want to be extra thorough in examining him, since he spent time as a prisoner being injected with who-knows-what. It makes Steve sway on the spot, overwhelmed with a dizzy horror that makes his palms sweat and clench into fists, to remember the sight of Bucky strapped down on that goddam cot. HYDRA had abandoned him, barely alive in a burning building. And the US army hadn't even bothered to verify his death. Bucky's family would already have sat shiva for him by the time they found out about the rescue. 

Soon enough however, Bucky is released with a clean bill of health, and he claps Steve on the shoulder as he comes out of the tent. 

“Fit as a fiddle,” he informs Steve. “Let’s go down and meet the boys at the pub, yeah?” 

Steve gives him a weak smile, but studies him carefully. Even if Bucky is physically just fine, he’s bound to have some psychological trauma. Bucky’s resilient, but nobody can just walk-off an experience like the one he just had. Steve would like to get Bucky alone and really talk to him about what happened. Get the details and assess the real damages. Steve’s the only person who can get Bucky to talk about what’s going on in his head. 

But Bucky is bright-eyed and smiling, with adrenaline and the joy of victory still coursing through him. Steve doesn’t have the heart to bring him down now. He’ll go wherever Bucky wants and talk to whoever Bucky wants him to. 

And Bucky’s good mood is contagious. So with a spring in their step, they go together to join their newfound comrades, Dum Dum, Jones, Frenchie, Morita, and Falsworth at the nearest pub to toast their victory. 

***

The pub becomes their regular haunt, and over the course of the next several weeks, the group spends a great deal of time there, drinking and learning how to make each other laugh. They have a great deal of respect for one another, after sharing the ordeal of imprisonment and their daring escape. As their wounds heal, their bond strengthens, and their thirst for adventure returns, until they all want nothing more than to form their own special unit, and see action side by side. 

Dum-Dum Dugan has a handlebar mustache, fierce arched eyebrows and ice blue eyes. His cowboyish sense of humor is matched quip for quip by Gabe Jones, the group’s translator. Jones is young, black, handsome, and a whiz at languages of all kinds. The two of them can keep a party going all by themselves for hours, but they are certainly helped along by Jacques Dernier, the oldest in the group, a dark-haired and olive-skinned Frenchman who they have all nicknamed “Frenchie”. The quieter members of the group are just as well-liked; James Montgomery Falsworth, the pale and rather dry English expat, and Jim Morita, the Japanese-American communications officer, with his easy humor and his open, Californian accent. 

For his part, Steve can’t help feeling like something of an outsider. He had not been imprisoned with them, after all; had not suffered as they had. There is also something in the way they all look at Bucky that makes Steve irrationally angry, for some reason. Steve tells himself he is just imagining it, but then he notices Morita smirking and biting his lip sometimes when Bucky talks, and Dernier scanning his eyes down Bucky’s body and letting them linger longer than Steve thinks is strictly appropriate. If the attention is real, and not just in Steve’s head, Bucky doesn’t seem to notice it. The men value him for his wits, his talent, his skill as a soldier, that much is clear. Even if they are also mentally undressing him. 

And despite Steve’s complicated feelings about the situation, when Colonel Phillips presents the possibility of Steve getting his own unit, Steve knows that these men are the only ones for the job. 

On the Friday that Steve is to meet with Phillips about the new unit, he has to extract himself from a raucous evening at the bar. 

“Alright, alright guys, I have to go have a word with the Colonel,” he says, still laughing at the story Dum Dum just finished. 

The seven of them have been sitting in the bar for at least the last three hours, letting it slowly empty around them as the men headed back to base for some much deserved rest. Sometime in the last two hours they’d declared themselves the Howling Commandos, and the name was still going strong. They had toasted to it more times than Steve could count. 

The men all groan and raise a glass to him as he stands, and for a moment Steve hesitates when he sees that Bucky isn’t rising with him. Somehow, he had expected him to follow. 

“I’ll come back to scrape you all off the floor later,” Steve says, looking away from his friend. It’s good that Bucky wants to spend time with their new special unit, really. He’s one of the guys, it can’t seem like he’s somehow separate from them just because he’s known Steve the longest. It makes sense. And Bucky’s reassuring smile is all he needs to walk away, after one final clap on the shoulder and round of laughter from the table. 

The men watch Steve leave before turning back towards the table, the loud slam of the door swinging shut in the night breeze seeming even louder in the now almost empty bar. 

***

“You two have known each other a long time, huh?” Dum Dum asks, looking at Bucky. 

Bucky nods. “Our whole lives. You wouldn’t know it, but last time I saw him he was barely five feet tall and barely 90 pounds wet.” 

The men laugh and a few take drinks from their half full pints. The bar is warm and they are pleasantly drunk, no one in any hurry to follow Steve out the door. 

“Good. We’ve got a man on the inside to tell us all about our new commander,” Jones says, grinning. “Is that going to be weird for you? Taking orders from your buddy?” 

Bucky shrugs. “Nah. Seeing other people listening to him, maybe. But he always took the lead, I just followed to make sure he made it home alright.” 

Bucky takes a deep draft of his beer and looks down at the table. 

“You two have each others backs. That’s good. But we’re a unit now Barnes, that means you can’t just have his back, but all of ours,” Jones says, staring him down. 

“You don’t have to worry ab--” 

“You know, there is a room upstairs,” Dernier says, looking around suggestively. “A private room. Perhaps we can take this time without our fearless leader for a little, unit bonding?” 

There’s no way any of them can miss what he’s suggesting. Bucky feels his heart beating faster in his chest as they all agree to the plan, standing up from their chairs. He has no reason to say no, and part of him doesn’t want to back out. The five fellas are all attractive, there’s no denying that...and for the good of the unit, it only makes sense... 

There’s a small voice inside him telling him not to, that it would somehow be a betrayal to Steve, but he shakes that thought away. He and Steve aren’t...like that. No. It’s ridiculous even to let himself think that. They’re _just friends_ , for Chrissakes, Barnes. And there’s a reason for the Army policy. It’s for everyone’s benefit. 

They’re all looking at him expectantly, waiting to see what he’ll do. Swallowing his nerves, and the last of his beer, Bucky rises to join them, and their delighted grins are all he needs to know he made the right choice. 

***

It’s at least an hour before Steve makes his way back to the bar. Colonel Phillips had finally given the Commandos the official stamp of approval--they were officially their own specialized unit. His unit. 

Steve hurries back to the bar to tell the guys but instead finds a nearly empty dining room. The woman at the bar directs him upstairs with a wink, telling him his friends had wanted privacy. 

“Thank you,” Steve calls as he heads up the stairs, expecting to find the six of them sharing a drink and a laugh. 

What he finds instead when he opens the door makes his jaw drop and something hot and ugly settle in the pit of his stomach. 

_There, in the middle of the floor is Bucky, stripped completely bare and kneeling on the hardwood floor._

This alone isn’t enough to stop Steve in his tracks; he’s seen Bucky naked often enough. They’d lived together, after all. But every time it happens Steve finds himself trying hard to ignore the fact that it’s never an unpleasant sight. 

What is unpleasant, mostly, is the sight of Bucky’s lips wrapped around Dum Dum Dugan’s cock, muffled moans making his adam’s apple bob as he sucks and licks around the hot flesh in his mouth. Dugan’s hips press forward. 

“What’s going on here?” Steve demands. He would have hated the way his voice sounded, choked and childish, if he could think clearly. 

“A little team bonding,” Morita says, settling down behind Bucky. He’s still mostly clothed but his uniform does little to hide the bulge in his green khaki pants. He sinks down until he’s nearly laying on the floor, then gently spreads Bucky’s cheeks before leaning forward to lick a wet stripe over his entrance. Bucky inhales sharply. 

Falsworth sidles up to Steve and clasps a hand on his shoulder. “Apparently you Americans have a policy similar to the French, mandating physical relationships between comrades in arms? We Brits don’t have such a policy; I don’t feel comfortable participating directly but it is...interesting to watch, isn’t it, Captain Rogers? Jones said it would foster team unity for us all to join in somehow.” 

“It’s called the Spartan Policy,” someone says, and Steve glances up to look. “It was just supposed to be us, but you’re welcome to join in, Cap,” Jones says, staring pointedly at Steve’s muscled chest. He’s sitting on the couch with Dernier, the two slowly stroking their erections, waiting their turns to join the three on the floor. 

“No, I’ll just- I’ll leave that to the six of you.” He starts to turn away, to get the hell out of there, but he throws one last look at Bucky, and stops in his tracks when he sees Bucky looking straight back at him, pupils blown wide with arousal. 

Their eyes lock, and Steve knows he can’t just walk away. 

Bucky doesn’t look away as he starts bobbing his head, taking in more and more of Dum Dum’s dick, and Steve can’t tear his eyes away. There’s something there, a spark in Bucky’s eyes that Steve has seen before. It’s the look he had when he wanted Steve to ride the Cyclone on Coney Island years before. It’s a look that practically dares him to walk away, knowing Steve will never back down from a challenge. 

Instead he turns back around and finds a chair nearby to settle into. “Maybe I’ll stay, just for little. What kind of commander would I be if I didn’t supervise?” He keeps his tone casual, but Bucky’s gaze made him weak in the knees and sent his heart, hammering, into his throat. 

The words sound right but he knows that isn’t all this is. It appeases the Commandos though, who refocus their attention on the scene before them. 

Bucky is still looking at Steve as he presses forward, taking almost all of Dugan into his mouth, letting the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. Steve swallows, repressing a small sound in his own throat. His pants are starting to feel a bit tight. It doesn’t help that Bucky’s bending forward, pressing his ass back towards Morita and his probing tongue, still laving at his hole, alternating quick swipes with gentle jabs, pressing inside him and loosening him up. 

Dugan grunts to warn Bucky that he’s close, giving Bucky just enough time to pull back and allow him to spill across his face and chest, sticky white streaks falling across his flushed skin while he continues to maintain eye contact with Steve. 

Steve grips the arms of his chair tightly, doing his best not to jump up and pull Bucky away, drag him back to base and make sure every drop is wiped from his skin. He knows he has no reason to feel this way, but the idea of someone else marking Bucky like this, like they’re claiming him, practically has him seeing red. 

He doesn’t have long to linger on this thought, though. Bucky’s moan of disappointment breaks his concentration as Morita pulls back and rises to his feet, only to make the short trip around to stand in front of Bucky. For a moment Steve thinks he’s going to press his cock between Bucky’s lips too, but instead he offers his fingers. Bucky gladly opens his mouth to accept the first two digits, licking up and between them before sealing his red, swollen lips around them and sucking like he had just minutes before on Dugan’s erection. 

On the couch behind them Dernier is busy giving Jones the same treatment, sucking and licking and thoroughly wetting the three digits offered. Jones has stopped touching himself and when he’s satisfied with Dernier’s work he pulls away and stands, coming to join Morita and Barnes, dropping to his knees behind Bucky. 

“Anyone got lube?” he asks. It’s not entirely unusual for guys to carry something like that around, long nights in the field get lonely after all, but Steve is still surprised when Dugan tosses him a small tube. 

“Thanks, man,” Gabe says as he squeezes some out onto his fingers and slips one between Bucky’s cheeks, pressing into his already loosened hole. “Did a good job back here, Jim.” 

“You don’t get to be a communications officer without being thorough,” Morita replies, offering Bucky a third finger in his mouth, which he takes gladly. He’s moaning again, caught between Jones and Morita’s fingers and the sound goes right through Steve. His head spins and he struggles to draw breath. 

One of Gabe’s fingers becomes two sooner rather than later and Bucky groans. Steve can’t see exactly what he does but Jones’ hand twists just a little and Bucky’s eyes go wide, a shiver running through his body so strong he almost loses his balance. 

“You like that?” Morita says, grinning down at Bucky. “Gabe, do that again.” 

Jones does so and Bucky jerks just a little, his already red and obviously aching erection begins to weep, white drops of pre-come leaking from the tip and slipping down the shaft. Steve feels his mouth go dry. He’ll have to ask what it is that Gabe is doing in case- in case of something he doesn’t let himself think about while he watches his team members going at it at his feet. 

“Good,” Jim says, pulling his fingers out of Bucky’s mouth, the pads of his index and pointer finger dragging along his spit slick bottom lip. He makes quick work of his own clothes, shedding his shirt, pants, and boxers until he’s as naked as Bucky, before kneeling on the ground in front of him, their chests just a few inches apart. 

He leans forward a little and takes both their erections in his hand, and Steve understands what he was doing. He was getting his fingers and hand wet just for this, so he can stroke them both together with ease, aided by Bucky’s saliva and the pre-come leaking from both their erections. 

He starts slow, dragging this out to keep Bucky on edge for as long as possible. Behind them, Jones adds a third finger and Bucky squirms a little, trying to adjust to the intrusion. Jones slows down, and brings his other hand up to Bucky’s hip, steadying him. Morita murmurs for him to breathe. 

Bucky takes a deep breath and again his eyes find Steve’s and for a moment it’s like neither of them can breathe. 

But when their eyes meet, Bucky’s body relaxes and Jones continues, pressing all three fingers deep inside him and slowly begins stretching him open. Soon he’s stretched enough for Gabe to remove his fingers all together and, with the application of a little more lubricant, begin guiding his cock into the sergeant. 

The intrusion causes Bucky to close his eyes and tip his head back to groan, leaving Steve with a sudden intense sense of loss at the broken eye contact. With Bucky looking at him he could almost pretend there was no one else there, that his new friends didn’t have their hands all over his friend, licking and stroking and thrusting into his Bucky, but now it’s all he can see. He grips the arms of the chair too hard, his knuckles going white. A furious heat throbs in his throat, his chest, his cock, and he can’t tell if it is rage or jealousy or lust or a mix of them all. He wants so desperately to reach out and touch, maybe-- 

“Joining in, Frenchie?” Dum Dum asks from the couch, cutting through Steve’s heated chain of thought. He sees glances up and sees Dernier getting off the couch. 

“I can not let the Americans have all the fun,” the frenchman laughs. He comes around behind Jones and kneels behind him, picking up the abandoned lube Gabe dropped next to them and coating his own fingers. It takes a moment but he manages to catch Gabe mid thrust and slip his fingers between the other man’s cheeks. 

Jones gives a small grunt of approval, too focused on Bucky to say much of anything but he seems perfectly content with the new addition to their trio. Dernier seems to know exactly what he’s doing with Gabe, something that almost makes Steve wonder if they’d met like this before, or if Dernier just has a lot of experience, because it's only a matter of minutes before he’s slicking himself up and pressing into Gabe, meeting him thrust for thrust and matching his pace. 

The additional strength behind Gabe’s thrusts has Bucky groaning and moaning louder and louder, aided by Morita’s hand picking up speed around the two of them. Steve’s throat seems to be constricting, and he gasps for air as he watches the exertion on Bucky’s face, the pleasure. 

It’s clear that both Bucky and Morita are getting close to the edge and won’t be able to keep this up much longer. 

Which Dum Dum seems to take as his queue. Fully erect once again he comes to stand next to the two, his cock between their two open mouths. Both men take the hint and dive in, licking and sucking along the shaft and head in turn. Morita takes initiative and takes as much of Dugan into his mouth as he can, allowing just enough room for Bucky to duck down and mouth at their friends balls for a moment before pulling back. 

Pre-come is leaking fast down both Jim and Bucky’s cocks, coating their shafts and Morita’s fingers as he works them closer and closer towards the edge. Gabe continues to thrust, his efforts aided by Dernier behind them, and all five commandos are working each other up into a frenzy, the air around them becoming more and more charged with arousal that has Steve shifting uncomfortably in his chair, caught between getting up and leaving and wanting to commit every second to memory. 

As usual it’s Bucky who is the deciding factor. He turns his head and meets Steve’s eyes and everything locks into place. Bucky’s blue-green eyes are glazed and shining with lust and, Steve realizes suddenly, with emotion. Though Steve has never seen him in this state, he can always read Bucky like a book, and written there in Bucky’s eyes is an emotion that there is no name for. 

They maintain eye contact as Bucky’s arousal shudders through him, causing him to spill over his and Morita’s chests and stomachs. He moans like he has been wounded. His twitching, shuddering body sets off a chain reaction as Gabe follows quickly, with Dernier and Morita right behind. Dugan finishes himself off, knowing the others are too caught up in their own pleasure to think of him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. None of that matters to Steve, though. What matters was Bucky looking at him, at that being the final shove that pushed him over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the reference to Bucky's family "sitting shiva" after hearing he was supposedly Killed In Action: We the authors are not Jewish, we share a number of various Christian backgrounds. But this is a Thing and we should all know about it, so here's further reading friends, go out and learn!
> 
> http://www.shiva.com/learning-center/visiting-shiva/
> 
> http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/282452/jewish/Mourning-Observances-of-Shiva-and-Shloshim.htm


	3. The New Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Steve,” says Bucky suddenly. “I guess I just thought of something, you don't have to like it.”

When Reveille sounds the next morning, the first thing Steve sees is Bucky, pulling his pillow over his face to block out the bugle. Steve smiles at his inarticulate complaints; for all that Bucky’s had to change in Europe, it’s good to know that some things will always stay the same. 

Then Morita pulls himself out of the next bunk, and Steve remembers the way he knelt in front of Bucky yesterday and took both of them in hand. 

Steve puts his own head under his pillow. He doesn’t know how to get up and look everyone in the face today, having seen so much more of anyone than he expected having to. And now he knows that they’ll have the same expectations of him. He can only keep the barrier of rank up for so long; if they’re going to be out on their own for missions, he knows there’s no way around bonding, eventually. 

He lies there for a few minutes, listening to his men dress and leave for breakfast. He should join them, he knows. Instead, he waits until the room is quiet to pull his pillow away. 

“Rise and shine, Rogers,” someone says, and Steve has to stop himself from throwing the pillow at them in surprise. 

“Bucky?” Steve sits up. “What’re you doing here? What about breakfast call?” 

Bucky shrugs, rolling out of bed and stretching. Steve catches half a wince before Bucky wipes it away and turns to Steve. “I could ask you the same thing. Not hungry?” 

“Nah,” Steve lies. “And I don’t mind missing the rush.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky agrees, and Steve hates that he can’t tell if he’s glad that they’re the only ones left, or if he wants to crawl out of his skin and find somewhere private to work out whatever the heck he’s feeling. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice that there’s more on Steve’s mind than usual, though, and he starts scuffing through the mess of clothes and equipment scattered on the floor around their cots. 

“Hey, Steve, think I've got something for you here.” He pulls out a pair of Steve’s pants. 

Holding them up, he manages to get a small smile out of Steve. It’s his first real smile since yesterday afternoon. 

“Swell, I was looking for those.” 

Bucky grins back at him. 

But Steve, unable to hold the eye contact, looks down at the floor. Looking into Bucky’s eyes is impossible right now. It creates a pain in his chest, in his stomach. 

“Air delivery, heads up,” Bucky says, under-handing the pants to Steve, and Steve looks up just in time to catch them. He forces a laugh, tries to act normal. 

But it’s too late; there is a tension in the room now. He knows Bucky did not miss the way he hastily broke the eye contact. 

Bucky’s beautiful smile falls a little at the edges. 

“Almost a shame to put them on,” Steve babbles quickly as he steps into the pants, trying to cover up the malcontent that he has already betrayed. “Shame to get your uniform dirty off the field.” 

Bucky shrugs. “I mean, I'm not saying anyone would mind you skipping pants, but we haven't got much else.” 

“Yeah, guess maybe no pants is the real uniform around here,” says Steve, trying and failing to hide a note of bitterness in his voice. “I just haven't got the hang of that yet.” 

“Yeah, maybe it is,” says Bucky. He takes a beat, silently considering Steve. 

Then they both speak at once. Steve reaches toward a pile of clothing on his cot and asks, “you, uh, want a shirt?” just as Bucky says, “hey, Steve. What’s eating you?” 

Steve freezes. His fist clenches around the t-shirt. 

“Oh. Uh. Nothin',” he says haltingly. 

Bucky’s eyebrows raise and Steve cringes. He’s a _terrible_ liar. Always has been. Especially to Bucky. 

“Sure, I'll take a shirt, thanks,” Bucky says slowly. “And if you don't want to talk about it, that's one thing, but I'm not buying nothin'.” 

Steve looks down at the shirt for a moment before half-heartedly tossing it to Bucky. 

Bucky grabs it out of the air before it falls short, keeping his eyes on Steve. 

“I don't know if it's kosher to say what I want to,” Steve says, after a moment. “I know the army has its reasons. I know they don't adopt policies for nothing.” 

Bucky puts the shirt aside, not bothering to put it on before coming closer to Steve. 

“Hey, hey, it's alright. You can say anything, you know that? I'm not the army. I'm just old Bucky.” 

Steve can feel his cheeks getting a little pink. He stares down at the floor, trying to look thoughtful instead of embarrassed. Pensive instead of bitter. 

“I don't know, Buck. I don't know if I can be on board with the Spartan Policy. I guess it works alright for some people, but I just don't see how it could work for everybody.” He swallows. “Maybe sex...doesn't mean much to these fellas. And they can just do it when and where they're told, and with whoever they're told to. But I just don't see that working for ...everybody, I guess.” 

“Not working for you, you mean?” says Bucky instantly. “Was it the Howlies, or just - _Steve_ , they didn't have the policy in the show, did they?” Bucky’s eyes widen a little. He must be only realizing just now that Steve hasn’t done anything like this before. He makes an aborted motion, as though he wants to reach out to Steve but doesn’t know if Steve would want to be touched. 

Steve swallows again and purses his lips a little. “No. They didn’t.” 

His eyes follow Bucky's movement, and there is a flutter of very deep sadness in his chest. Bucky isn’t his anymore. Bucky is reaching out to touch him, but it’s just a reflex. Just sympathy. Bucky is the army’s man, not Steve’s. 

Steve shakes his head a little. 

“Yeah, I guess it is just me I mean. Chaps my ass to admit it, but...I don't know if I could do what you did out there, Buck.” 

Bucky flushes a little and looks aside. “I guess you can get used to almost anything, out here.” 

Steve gives a purposeful nod. “Yeah. Maybe so.” 

He wants to end this conversation. To be completely honest, he wants to go find a corner somewhere, curl up in it, and never move again. 

But before he can bow away, Bucky speaks again. “But I- We should've remembered you hadn't done this before. Instead of throwing you into the deep end, I mean. That wasn't right, I'm sorry.” 

He looks back up, still slightly shamefaced but more focused on Steve now. 

“You did nothing wrong,” says Steve, a little surprised. “It was protocol.” 

Bucky lets out a weak laugh. “Of all people, you're the one telling me something's fine just because someone said it is? That's not what I remember hearing from you. Nah, it wasn't good.” 

Steve turns his head away a little. He thinks for a moment, his jaw set tight. He shouldn’t ask Bucky the question in his mind. It’s...pathetic, really. But with the pain in his chest, he has very few filters up. 

“I don't know how to ask this, but...it's not hard for you? 

“Go fo--” Bucky breaks off in the middle of his encouragement, not expecting the question. His gaze slips aside again. “I mean. It's easier. Once you know what you're doing, like with anything. And I guess it makes sense. It’s all for the good of the unit, I mean.” 

“Sure. Makes plenty of sense.” Steve tries to sound more normal. When Bucky looks at him sharply, catching his tension, Steve blinks back, trying to look innocent and cheery. 

“But that still doesn't make it right, come on,” says Bucky. “And if you don't want in on it, there should, there should be some way you don't have to join the rest of the guys. I mean, it's not like you knew everyone in that base, right? But that didn't stop you from saving all our asses.” 

“Yeah, tell that to the general, maybe I can be his personal concubine.” 

“That's not what this is, Steve! It's not like that.” 

“Then what is it like?!” Steve snaps, without meaning to. 

Bucky half-inhales to speak, but sighs instead. 

Steve’s gut instantly twists with guilt. He shouldn’t snap at Bucky, shouldn’t take this bizarre jealousy out on him. He watches very intently as Bucky finds words again. 

“I mean. It's not. Alright, it's not like that. But nobody could pull you off the team for personal matters anyhow. So I know where I stand, but I think we'd all rather you stuck around.” Bucky draws another breath. “Hey, Steve, we'll work this out, yeah? Like old times, we'll find a way.” He grins, offering Steve some reassurance. “Just you and me, we'll work it out.” 

“Yeah.” Steve swallows. His head spins a little at the way Bucky said ‘you and me’. “Yeah, we’ll work it out.” He gives Bucky a weak smile. 

Bucky smiles back, but there is something thoughtful about him, all of a sudden. “You and me,” he repeats, distant. 

Hearing Bucky say those words again sends a little shiver through Steve. 

“Hey, Steve,” says Bucky suddenly. “I guess I just thought of something, you don't have to like it.” 

“Yeah? Try me.” 

“What about you and me, you know? Instead of everyone expecting you to know how it all works, already, I could show you what I've picked up. So you could try it on a little slower. If that'd make any sense.” 

There’s a rising flush in Bucky’s cheeks, but his gaze is steady. He’s serious about this, Steve realizes, and almost chokes on his sharp inhale. “Oh.” 

Bucky shakes his head quickly. “We don't got to, it was just an idea. Forget it,” he shrugs, as though he could just brush it under the rug. 

Steve has to blink a few times. “No! I mean, yes! I- Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes, Buck I think that's the best idea you've had in...yeah.” Steve pauses, finding his words. “You could...break me in,” he finishes, a little breathless. He can feel himself blushing hugely at his choice of phrasing. 

Bucky’s eyes go wide on Steve. “I mean, sure, could say it like that. Just as long as you wouldn't be all in the corner like last time. Just so long as you wouldn't be uncomfortable with it all.” 

“I wouldn't!” Steve says quickly. “I-” he stops and collects himself a little. “I could do it if no one else was there, you know?” 

Bucky nods. 

“And it'd help. It would,” Steve emphasizes. “I'd feel more like I was doing what I'm here for. Being part of the army,” he continues, “however the army needs me.” 

Steve’s odd pang of intense excitement at Bucky’s offer is now being eclipsed by doubts. _Bucky could only have made the offer out of obligation. What would it be like to…be with Bucky that way, while knowing it meant nothing to him?_ Steve’s stomach twists. But _he_ , Steve, is only doing it out of obligation too, of course. _Why the hell else would he want to?_

Bucky nods again, slower. “Yeah,” he agrees. “That'd be good, then, right? I don't want you to feel like the odd man out, or anything. We're in this together. And it should be good all around.” He offers Steve a brighter face, and put-on or not, it’s encouraging. 

Steve smiles, even if it’s a little lopsided. “Yeah.” He eyes slip down to Bucky's shirtless chest and shoulders, and he is suddenly feeling a little dizzy. At his gaze, Bucky’s flush blooms down his torso, and he swallows. 

Steve looks up, and Bucky’s eyes on his are intense. “Guess there's no time like the present, is there?” Bucky says brightly. 

Steve lets out a harsh, shaky laugh and glances at the door. 

“They're at breakfast, we've got a bit,” Bucky says, and Steve, who was just having the same thought, nods. 

“Alright.” Steve swallows, squares his shoulders, and tries to look businesslike. 

Bucky’s eyes flick to Steve’s shoulders, then meet Steve’s eyes again. “Nah, Steve, alright, lesson one. You gotta relax, alright?” 

The familiar blue-green of Bucky’s eyes washes through Steve like a physical force. He realizes after a moment that he is gazing like a sap, and looks down quickly. 

“Yeah.” He lets his tense shoulders drop. But it is harder now to hide that he is shaking a little. He makes his sweaty hands into fists and then relaxes them. 

Bucky reaches out to touch Steve’s closer hand as though unconsciously, used to reaching out to him. Steve looks down at their hands. 

“You sure you're alright with this?” Bucky asks gently. 

“Yeah.” 

“We can take this slow.” 

“Yeah.” Steve smiles a little, and feels the warm blood tinting his cheeks pink. “I'd like that.” 

Keeping his eyes fixed down on their hands, he very shakily and slowly brushes his fingers further into Bucky's. He can feel a pulse in Bucky’s wrist, oddly rapid. When they are almost holding hands, Steve looks up. Bucky gives him a slightly shaky smile. 

“That's real good, Stevie.” 

Steve returns the smile. 

“You want to try kissing?” The words come out in a rush, as though Bucky said them before he could stop himself. 

Steve’s eyebrows rise slightly. He is surprised to hear the words, even though he sort of knew they were coming. He steps forward so that their noses brush together. He tries to speak and ends up whispering so quietly that it’s mostly just air against Bucky’s lips. “Yeah.” 

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, and he closes the distance to press their lips into a kiss. 

Steve’s trance breaks for just a moment as he feels a sudden swell of panic. _He does not know how to do this._ But he feels the warmth of Bucky’s lips and experimentally presses into the kiss. Half of his mind may be buzzing and panicking, but the other half feels sort of like it is…floating. 

Bucky pulls their hands together to clasp, and his other hand comes up to Steve’s jawline. Steve feels a little like he is melting. He melts against Bucky and lets his free hand float up to rest on the side of Bucky’s waist. 

Their noses bump a little, and Bucky turns his head to an angle and licks Steve’s lip, asking. 

Steve’s breath catches and he nods a tiny bit. He waits with eyes gently half-closed, ready for Bucky to do anything to him, trusting him so completely that all his nerves are falling away. 

Bucky’s thumb rasps a little as he strokes Steve’s cheek. He finds the angle and opens the kiss, leaning into Steve more. 

At the heat and pressure of Bucky’s mouth, of his body, Steve chokes on an unexpected _moan_. Bucky’s eyes fly open. 

Steve blushes fiercely. He pulls away a little in his embarrassment and blinks a few times. 

Bucky looks at Steve with wide eyes, his lips still slightly parted. “'S alright, Steve, don't worry. You're picking it up fast.” He gives Steve a side smile. 

Steve laughs a little. He feels like he possibly might cry or laugh a lot harder. “Thanks,” he babbles. “Super serum. Fast learner.” 

Bucky gives a small head-shake, his hand soft on Steve’s jaw. “Super Steve. Always been.” 

Steve’s eyebrows crease with emotion. He hesitates for a second, and then leans back in and puts his lips to Bucky's again. Encouraged by Bucky’s praise, he starts to experiment a little with the kiss. He draws Bucky back in deeper, where they were before he moaned and shocked them out of the moment. Bucky tastes just like Steve had imagined he would, like spearmint toothpaste and something metallic and yet tender. Odd little morphing colors and shapes are beginning to burst behind Steve’s eyelids. 

Bucky’s hand slips around the back of Steve’s neck, catching at his short hair. Steve shudders, and his arms go up involuntarily to wrap around Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky over-balances when Steve’s hand goes out from his. Eyes wide, he catches at Steve, pulling him along to topple over on top of him on the cot behind them. 

Gasping, Steve runs his hands over Bucky’s shoulder and onto his chest. He isn't quite sure what to do with his hands, his mind has gone all fuzzy. He leans down to kiss Bucky again and underneath him, Bucky moans against the kiss, arches up into Steve’s touch. 

Steve gasps again and moans back, half with amazement, half with sympathy-pleasure. “S'good, Buck,” he pants. “I never knew it was like this.” He stares at his own hands running over Bucky's chest in flushed amazement. 

Bucky puts one hand in Steve’s hair, the other sliding down his side to his waist. “I told you, me and you, we're always good. Always the best,” he murmurs, voice lost in the kiss. 

Steve moans a little at the words and presses into Bucky’s hand on his waist. He loves the way it feels there, and Bucky’s hand in his hair, and the warm, soft skin of his chest, and the taste of his mouth, and his breath on Steve’s face and neck... 

"Wanna keep goin',” Steve gasps. “I want--” 

Steve breaks off, panting, just enough strength left to censor himself this much. 

Bucky blinks slowly up, eyes dark. “What, Steve? Anything.” 

Steve’s head spins. He considers for a moment and then starts to laugh. “I don't even know what I want. I just want everything.” 

Bucky beams, lost in Steve. “I know you do.” 

Steve beams back dopily. 

“What about from me, howsabout?” 

Steve giggles a little, his forehead falling down onto Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky taps his fingers on Steve's side, and Steve knows he is smiling even though he can't see it. 

“I say something funny?” Bucky teases. 

”I want…” The smile Steve directs into Bucky’s shoulder is dreamy as well as dopey. And he is not so easily embarrassed as he was at the beginning of this, but he still keeps his face hidden in Bucky’s shoulder as he says, “Want you to take my clothes off. And use your mouth on me.” 

Bucky’s hand tightens at the back of Steve’s head, and he moans out, “Yeah, I want, I like that, I like how you think.” He stops himself abruptly and swallows hard. He turns and kisses the side of Steve’s head where his ear meets soft skin, and shifts his hands to the hem of Steve’s undershirt. “I think that means you’re overdressed, Rogers.” 

Steve lifts his hands up over his head to facilitate getting the undershirt off. He grins giddily. “You gonna do anything about it, or what?” 

“The attitude on you, I swear.” Bucky gives a mock-headshake and pulls the undershirt up and off Steve. He tosses it up and behind him somewhere; they can hunt for their clothes again later. 

Bucky brings his hands back to Steve’s waist and runs them up his sides. Then he drags them back down to Steve’s pants, thumbs sweeping over Steve’s lower stomach. 

Steve drags a shaky breath at the pleasure of the caress. He presses up a little into Bucky’s hands. 

“That tickle, or something?” Bucky asks. 

“No...it--I don't even know what you'd call it. But…” Steve lets out another shaky breath. “Yeah.” 

Bucky smiles. His hands shift to hold onto Steve’s waist, and he crunches up to kiss him. “Just sing out if it doesn’t feel good, alright?” 

“Yeah,” says Steve, although speaking is becoming more and more of a struggle. He reaches out to interlink his fingers with Bucky's for a moment, and guide Bucky's hand down to the buckle of his pants. 

Bucky rolls back down onto the cot, tugs at the belt before using two hands. Steve helps him by clenching the muscles in his ass and scooting a little to get the pants off of his hips and down around his thighs. “There,” he says. “I'm in uniform.” 

He scrambles a little clumsily, trying to get off of Bucky to lie down beside him on the cot. He is surprised by how weak his limbs feel, and he half-falls over Bucky and nearly falls off the cot. 

Bucky catches him, and turns onto his own side to make space. He lays Steve back so that he is face-up on the mattress. They both laugh, a little giddy, looking at each other. 

And then Bucky sits up and turns himself around so that he can tug Steve’s pants the rest of the way off. 

Steve looks down to watch Bucky’s hands on him, still amazed by the sight. Evidently the amazement shows on his face, because when Bucky looks up to make eye contact with him, he smiles, the way he always does when he shows Steve something new and gets a good reaction. 

Bucky leans down to kiss him again, deep and open. One hand splays out on Steve’s chest, and Steve raises a hand to Bucky’s hair. Steve is breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling under Bucky’s hand. 

Some of his nerves are coming back as he realizes that he is almost naked, and how very vulnerable he is, his heart beating almost out of his chest under Bucky’s hand. It’s like Bucky is the only thing holding it in, because Bucky’s eyes are on him, and Bucky’s _hands_ are on him. And even though Steve knows, logically, that this can’t really _mean_ anything to Bucky, it almost seems like it does. 

He lets his hand run very slowly through Bucky’s hair, and swallows. 

Bucky blinks, as though he is not sure what's wrong but he knows that something is, and he pulls back a little bit to look at Steve properly. 

“Steve. D'you still want this?” 

“Yes.” Steve swallows again. “Just want…” A wave of emotion, strong enough to astonish him, catches in his chest. “Oh God, Buck...will you keep your eyes on me when you do it? Just keep looking at me? Like you are now? Just…” 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” 

Steve smiles and nods his thanks. He swallows a little lump in his throat. 

Bucky kisses him quickly and pulls back again to study his face. 

“S’alright,” Steve says, “I’m alright.” 

Bucky watches him closely. But after a moment, he says, “alright.” And at Steve’s encouraging nod and smile, he gives a smile of his own and moves to orient himself kneeling at Steve’s feet. Steve’s lying on his back with his knees up, and as he watches Bucky shift himself, he feels a little dizzy again. 

Bucky touches Steve's knee gently. “You gotta relax, remember?” 

Steve nods, smiles, and then laughs a little. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Just a little nervous, is all.” He watches Bucky’s face hungrily, tenderly, his brow a little furrowed. 

“I know. It's just me, though.” Bucky slips into a smile. 

Steve nods. He smiles, and reaches out to brush Bucky’s cheek. “Just you.” 

Bucky turns into Steve's hand, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment. He takes a shaky breath, pulls himself somewhat together, and looks back up at Steve. 

He taps Steve's knees to fall open again. “Then let me do this for you.” 

Steve lets his legs fall open, gasping for breath as Bucky’s words seem to rip through him. “Yes...yeah...yes, Buck…” 

Bucky bites his lip. He runs his hands down Steve's thighs, starts to stroke his cock lightly as he scoots down to have space, catching at his foreskin and pulling it back, where it stays. Steve gives a shuddering inhale at this first touch. Bucky’s hand on his skin sends a ripple of shivers up into his stomach. The rest of his body feels suddenly almost completely limp. 

Bucky pauses and looks up at Steve from between his legs and make eye contact. And when Steve gives him a dopey grin, Bucky smiles, and guides Steve’s cock to kiss the head. 

Steve gasps. He reaches a shaking hand forward to caress Bucky’s hair. 

Bucky takes a breath. 

Steve is always hyper-aware of Bucky; what he is thinking, what he is feeling. But in this moment it feels like even Bucky’s pulse has crept under Steve’s skin, and Steve can feel it racing. 

Bucky drops his head down and takes Steve into his mouth, his lips sliding over the head. He breathes shakily through his nose, and licks thickly as though tasting the salt of Steve’s skin. But as Bucky slides his mouth down onto Steve’s cock, an instant groan slips from Steve’s throat and his back arches off of the bed. Bucky pulls back in caution, and his hand catches Steve’s hip automatically. 

“You alright? Go easy there, some of us need air for this.” 

“I'm alright, I'm--good, I'm great, I'm--sorry, I-sorry, yeah. I'm good. I'll lie still.” 

Bucky smiles. “It's fine, you're good. Real good. Just be careful, you won't hurt _me_ , but you might hurt yourself.” 

“It just...ahh, I've never felt anything like…” 

“Like...?” Keeping the eye contact, Bucky slides him into his mouth again. 

“Like...ohhhh, like that, oh God…” Steve gasps. His hands clench into Bucky's hair. 

Bucky moans in his throat, one hand on the rest of Steve's shaft. Steve feels the vibrations of Bucky's moan and breaks the eye contact as his head thuds back with pleasure. But as soon as he falls back he is struggling to sit up again, totally flushed and glazed now, to keep watching Bucky. 

For his part, Bucky slowly works on taking more of Steve, running broad stripes of his tongue against the vein along the bottom of Steve’s cock as he goes, until his mouth is full. He almost coughs a little against his soft palate, and pulls back to catch himself. 

His hand on Steve's shaft drops down to hold his balls, thumb at the base. 

Steve has been fighting to maintain eye contact, albeit with more and more futility as his eyes begin to roll back with pleasure, but when Bucky’s hand goes to his balls, he falls back and gives up trying to watch altogether. “Buckyyy....” 

Bucky grins widely around Steve, watching him as he lies there limp and moaning helplessly. He brushes his thumb along the seam of Steve’s balls, tugging just the smallest amount. Then he drops his head to bob and work at Steve’s cock deep, deeper than before. Steve can feel the throbbing in Bucky’s red lips, as well as the hard, beating pulse in his own cock. “That--Bucky--yes--ohh-” he chokes. “I think I might… _ohh_...is it alright if I...?” 

He can’t quite say it, can’t imagine it, can’t process that this is happening. His cock is deep in his best friend’s mouth, so hot and sore and aching that if he can’t come, it seems like he might die. 

Bucky pulls off him slowly, lips swollen and shining. “What do you want?” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. 

Steve’s throat is constricting. He is choking on the words but he says them like they could be his last. “Wanna cum for you.” 

Bucky groans and leans into Steve's leg for support. “ _Please_.” He looks back up. “D'you. Steve. D'you want to come on me? Or do you want me to suck you off?” 

“In...in your mouth…,” Steve gasps, and Bucky nods, a little shaky. He licks his lips and puts them back around Steve’s cock. 

It doesn’t take much. All it takes is the returned pressure of Bucky’s mouth. And when Bucky catches his tongue under Steve’s head, Steve collapses under the oncoming wave. He grips his fingers into the sheets, drags the fabric between his knuckles, and keeps his eyes on Bucky’s all through his long, unbearable orgasm. Chest heaving, mouth open, he is too overwhelmed even to make a sound until it is over, when he lets out a guttural whimpering groan, which might have been a feeble attempt at Bucky’s name. 

Bucky pulls off him carefully, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. He moves slowly up between Steve’s legs and hovers above him, made unsure by Steve’s dazedness. Steve is off in another world. But after a long moment, he blinks very bright eyes open and grins. “Hey Buck.” 

Bucky grins, relieved, and Steve grins back like an idiot. 

“Was that alright, then?” Bucky asks innocently, but before Steve can answer his breath catches suddenly as little sparks of aftershock light in his cock. “Yeah,” he gasps. He reaches up to pull Bucky in for a kiss and moans, soft and incredulous, into his mouth. He twists a little under Bucky as the aftershocks ripple through him, and then catches his breath enough to grin again, once they have passed. 

“So,” he pants. “You gonna show me how to do that?” 

Bucky smiles down at him, his eyes soft and blazing at the same time. “Don't think I could pass it up.”


End file.
